


Friends in Small Places

by GrayPerdition



Series: Scattered Moonbeams [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, College, M/M, Multi, Prologue, Series, Slow Burn, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayPerdition/pseuds/GrayPerdition
Summary: Scattered Moonbeams was a magic curio shop that had been standing in Hollow Bastion for generations. Saïx and his twin brother Isa had lived in the building their entire lives, and had inherited it after their mother’s untimely death a few years past. But Saïx, and only he, had inherited more; her responsibility as the cosmic head of the household. Or, the resident warlock.





	Friends in Small Places

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first thing I'm posting so please be kind!
> 
> This is the start of a series I'm hoping to write, that has Xemsaï as the end goal. But this works as a stand alone piece. 
> 
> Sorry if it's rough! I really wanted to post it, and I don't have an editor/beta (if they're still called that).

The smell of springtime blossoms drifted through the air as Saïx walked down Hollow Bastion’s cobbled streets. He enjoyed it if he was being honest, tilting his slightly chilled nose up to inhale past his hood. The winter had come late and was refusing to make way for the warmth of its successor, but the change was persistent enough to allow the earliest flowers to bloom. The snows had stopped though the blue-haired young man still found himself wearing a jacket. He made his way past the colorful city buildings, looking to start on his shop’s spring cleaning. Shops and cafes were the most prevalent establishments in this shopping district and their proprietors took it upon themselves to hang large signs and banners, use neon lights and moving displays, and play all types of music to attract tourists and patrons. Saïx’s inherited shop was just on the outskirts of this district, where things were still lively but the decor was less flamboyant. 

Saïx’s face was pink when he hopped up his concrete steps, large key ring in hand. It was a gray, three story building with a turret on the right side, culminating in an shingled black roof. It was almost attached to the apartments next door on the right, but had an alley of space between it and the coffee shop on the left. It wasn’t a large place, but it wasn’t small either. The first floor had a centered main entrance and a large bay window to the left. In it was a display of large books and live growing herbs as well as a neon ‘OPEN’ sign and a handwritten hours placard. Above the door hung a black and purple sign proudly and artistically displaying the name of his store, ‘Scattered Moonbeams.’ The name was a bit of a mouthful, and didn’t really communicate what he sold, but he had chose it at a young age and was going to stick with it. 

Scattered Moonbeams was a magic curio shop that had been standing in Hollow Bastion for generations. Saïx and his twin brother Isa had lived in the building their entire lives, and had inherited it after their mother’s untimely death a few years past. But Saïx, and only he, had inherited more; her responsibility as the cosmic head of the household. Or, the resident warlock. 

Scattered Moonbeams, despite its many names and appearances over generations, had been a resource for the users of real magic since its inception. While the store sold things like smoking pipes, patchwork clothing, Wiccan books, and witch-motif tchotchkes, most of the money it made came from the ‘historical’ pieces he had in stock - those imbued with some sort of real magic. Hidden amongst the unassuming shelves were powerful tomes and recipe books. Much of the jewelry displayed behind the counter had magical properties or enchantments. He grew many different herbs, flowers, and spices to sell as spell components. He kept stones and crystals as focus items. Not to mention the fact that many came to him personally for plain advice and expertise. In the modern age, witchcraft was a popular enough hobby that there was too much misinformation on the internet to trust. Saïx, a seasoned warlock, had the knowledge of an entire ancestral line of magic at his disposal. He was an integral part of what made the store what is was to the magic community, just like his mother before him. The store was Saïx’s entire life. 

After he closed the door, he reached over and flicked on his ‘OPEN’ sign, along with a few light switches. He left the door locked until he was ready to keep his eyes out for customers. Warming fingers combed through his long hair a few times as he walked. Coming more fully into the shop, past a few display shelves and kiosks, he swung behind the front counter. He shrugged out of his messenger bag and placed it under his feet. Setting himself up for business only took a moment, and then he peeled off his jacket to keep it from getting dirty. He did his best to keep the shop clean, but inevitably he had to take a day or two every spring to get all the deepest fairy dust and dirt out. Such was the repetitiveness of life, at least Saïx’s life. 

There was a box with things like rags, dusters, and bottled cleaners behind the counter with him that he had spent the last two or three days collecting. Certain cleaner for the wooden bookshelves and curios, Windex for the few display cases, and different odds and ends. The inside of the shop would be the easier part of of his spring cleaning, if time consuming, because most of the work came from organizing, cleaning, and preparing the garden out back for its springtime flourish. To Saïx, the tedious process of removing things from shelves, cleaning them and where they sat, and then replacing them and going again was torture compared to the labor of the garden. That was why he was starting with what he considered the shit job first, to get it done and over with. 

Saïx stood with a hand on his hip and looked around, trying to decide where to start. He whipped out his cell phone and pulled up a notepad to break the day into smaller tasks. There was the counter area, which had the the wooden counter itself and a few small boxes of counter clutter, and some shelving with jewelry and large geodes in the back. There was the sitting area in the turret where he would need to dust, look for damaged books, freshen up the mismatched window seating, wipe the coffee table, and assess the coasters. The various display shelves scattered around and the lone clothing rack needed dusting and reorganization as well. There was the herb table that he needed to scrub free of dirt. The floors needed special attention paid to the seemingly permanent splotches under that table, and mopped in general. The stairs needed to be swept and the banister wiped. He needed to dust the few areas of wall that held some paintings instead of bookshelves, and the ceiling fan. Saïx nodded to himself as he finished the list. He knew that there would be things he needed to do that he hadn’t thought of, but that would get him started. But before he actually started cleaning, he was most definitely going to smoke a joint. 

The blue haired young man looked to the door to decide whether to leave his sign on or off. He didn’t want to delay starting any longer because he knew he would put it off. Leaving the sign on, he took the stairs at the back two at a time. On the second floor, he went through the kitchen and dining area, past Isa’s door and into his own, and grabbed a rolled joint from his desk. At first he left his lighter, but he didn’t want to have to come back for it, so he grabbed it just in case. He slid back down the stairs, threw his jacket back on, and skipped out the door behind the counter. 

Behind the shop the boys had a decent sized city yard, although Saïx’s greenhouse consumed most of the space. It was pretty private because the apartments gave half of the yard a brick wall. Wisteria climbed the expanse and thankfully there were no windows. In the back was the greenhouse, and the last side of the yard had a black wrought iron fence and gate separating it from the alley. A black patio set with four chairs sat in the shade of the building. The yard was mostly grass with a brick path to the greenhouse. Littered about were a few mushroom and fairy statuettes, but the yard was pretty barren from the winter. Some boxed string lights and wind chimes in the cellar would eventually brighten the space when he brought his spring cleaning outside.

Saïx padded forward and sat at the table, chair silent on the grass. The ground was cold enough to make a shiver run up his spine. He put the joint in his mouth and cupped the other end of it. He didn’t know if he would be able to light it himself because he was physically so cold. Hiding the trick behind his hand, he pointed his fingers in an attempt to make a small flame. He could feel the miniscule pull of magic radiate from his facial marking, down to his diaphragm, to the mark on his right forearm. The power to make a small flame was simple in theory, but his skills lied in other fields. Making fire was not easy for him. And even though he wasn’t uncomfortably cold, the opposing feeling would lessen his mental connection with the magic. Nothing happened at first, but as he persisted a few sparks danced, and then a flame came to life with a small flourish. He took his first inhale with a smile, the smallest proud gleam in his eye. The older he got the more his powers manifested, which was one of the few things in life that brought him real happiness.

Pulling on the joint and messing around on his phone kept him busy for a moment. He had only taken a few pulls however before he saw movement in the back corner of the yard. He turned to look at the shimmering light as it came fluttering toward him. At first all he saw was a disturbance in the air, like looking through shimmering heat, and then he saw the faint silhouette of a small humanoid. He didn’t see the fae’s translucent figure until it was right in front of him. She was a small thing, no taller than ten inches, colored in grays and purples and icy blues. He was looking at a winter dryad. That was odd - a winter dryad should have began her hot weather hibernation at this point in the year. She looked distressed and frantic, and opened her mouth wide to speak before he could react to her entrance.

“Yes! I found you! They said it wasn’t hard to find this place but humans cities are way too much sometimes!” She landed daintily on the table and trotted up to his folded arm. He put his phone down. “This is Scattered Moonbeams, right? It has to be! There are too many magical auras in this human city for its own good you know!” The sprite spoke animatedly and was obviously unhappy with her trip. She crossed her arms and looked up at him. He raised a single brow. 

“Can I help you?” He exhaled with a bit of smoke. 

“Are you the Balthour heir or not?” She waited for him to nod and then continued. “I’m supposed to be asleep right now. But when I started to prepare for the summer I found something stole my home! My boulder!” Saïx looked at her closely. She looked ragged, her clothes a bit disheveled, and her face sunken and burned on the cheeks. Her hair flopped about, dampened with sweat. “I don’t know who or what it is! I tried smoking them out with herbs. I tried asking nicely. But I need to do something or I’m going to die!” She finished with a dramatic flourish. Saïx pulled on his joint. She wasn’t exaggerating; the fae’s energy would dwindle to nothing with no place to rest. 

“You don’t know what it is?” He questioned her and she looked down, dejected, shaking her head. Saïx took one last pull before snubbing the roach out in the ashtray. There were a few creatures and spirits that were known to take up residence in open abodes. Dryads did the hard work of making it habitable. The intruders were mostly harmless sprites, and usually left when it was time for the larger fae to return for hibernation. A creature that stubbornly clung to something that wasn’t its own was most likely less magnanimous in nature then the playful sprites. “Are there any other symptoms? Stench? Disfiguration?” The blue haired man stood and the fae tilted her head, pondering. 

“I don’t think so..? Actually, it does smell… Different. But that could be because I left it for a season.” She shook her head, “That isn’t any help, I’m sorry.” Her shoulders slouched and she drooped. “Please, you have to help me.” 

“I’m going to try,” he reassured her. “Would you come inside?” He walked to the door and held it open, then followed inside after her frosty trail. 

The counter near the back door was where Saïx kept most of his practical things, including his personal spell book. The dryad alit on the wooden counter with a curious expression and watched the warlock as he pulled a dark leather tome from below him. Opening the book toward the beginning, he flipped through the familiar entries until settling on a multi-page spread detailing the living shadow. A living shadow was the lowest form a dark being could take. It, like the sprites, was mostly harmless. But they were stubborn. Most living shadows sprawled the earth looking for magical holes to inhabit, control, or contort. They could have other aspirations, but they mostly just liked to cause mischief. Usually disputes between lesser magical beings like this didn’t come to Saïx’s attention. They worked themselves out more often than not. But that didn’t mean they never popped up here or there. 

“Have you seen anything like this around your boulder?” As he asked, he had to wonder if a boulder made a good home. The fae had already been peeking at the tome over his forearm, but she wouldn’t have been able to read his personal spell book until he purposely showed it to her. She hemmed and hawed over it for a moment. 

“I dunno…” He sucked in a breath. He wasn’t exactly sure what else would want to possess such a small place. “I haven’t really seen anything. It never budged no matter what I did.” She crossed her barbie-sized arms and her whole body bobbed. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening. A shadow probably just slipped in and decided to get comfortable. I can exorcise him.” She gasped. “Well, you said you already asked nicely. Plus, it would just banish it back to where it came from, not kill it.”

“I… guess you’re right.” She went on to thank him with her hands clasped together. He gave the box at his feet a half-assed sorrowful look. Exorcising a spirit, even a small one, was a task he was better suited to, and preferred. But he couldn’t just put this completely off. The fae wouldn’t drop dead in the next few hours, but the poor thing looked exhausted, and getting to the shop through the city probably wasn’t easy.

“What’s your name?” 

“I am the gentle Serali, you can call me Sera!” She bowed dramatically. “And what should I call you?”

“I’m Saïx. Look, I can’t run out just yet. I need to get some things done here.” Not liking the sound of that, Sera pouted up at him. “It’ll only be two or three hours. Plus, it’s the hottest part of the day. We’ll leave when it’s cooler.” She nodded, and Saïx was glad that worked. It wasn’t hot outside to him, but to someone accustomed to winter weather it was blazing. Trailing effervescent dust, she flitted over to a praying statue with outstretched arms and draped herself over it. He took that as at least contentment.

Harsh cleaner scent always gave Saïx a headache, but he wanted to do the job right. So he dug through the box quickly and pulled some rags from the bottom. He busied himself first with wiping down the wooden counter and shelves with a dry run before going back over it with polish. As he worked, he asked her about her home. Hollow Bastion was a decent sized city, with a suburban district, Radiant Garden, to the south. To the west was the ocean, and the east and north a large woodland area called Black Lake Forest. She lived a decent distance into the forest to the north, and he decided he would need to take the car if he wanted to get home in time to get some sleep before class tomorrow. 

Wood polished and boxes organized, he started to wipe the various things he pulled from the shelves before putting them back in place. Music played from his phone and a speaker on the counter, and the fae had sat next to it and was changing the songs freely. An hour had passed, and Sera seemed restless already. She followed him to the clothing rack and watched him rearrange the the hangers. That didn’t take him long, and he moved on to a nearby display shelf and began to take down the tchotchkes and statuettes. Sera sighed for the umpteenth time and Saïx’s yellow eyes disappeared inside his skull. 

“Okay. I’ll finish this shelf and we’ll get going.” While used to eyes on him in the store, the young warlock really didn’t enjoy being scrutinized. The fae clapped happily and started to hum a melody. 

 

In the next hour, Saïx and Sera had pulled the boys’ half run-down pickup from the street. It was late enough that they missed rush hour traffic, which could get horrendous in the city, so the drive was relatively peaceful. Buildings old and new, colorful pedestrians, and the occasional shrubbery eventually turned into lush woodland. The main road through the forest had few side roads. Bears, mountain lions, and wolves prowled these woods and not many found themselves looking to go in deeper. But after a while, and having pulled his car down a beaten dirt road a ways, Saïx stopped in a small lot leading to what the local game and rescue commission referred to as an ‘advanced level’ camping spot. 

The blue haired warlock found himself traveling through these half-cursed forests more than he really liked. The fae zipped to the treeline, either oblivious to or ignoring his discomfort. Sera was going on about how close they were, rambling through the last bit of directions. She wiggled excitedly in mid-air and waited for Saïx to catch up before dashing into the brush. The warlock pulled out a compass before losing himself to the overgrown forest. He wasn’t going to have a guide back to his car if it all went well.

Saïx jogged to keep up. It was colder here than the city. He wanted to shove his hands in his pockets, but needed them to pull branches away from his path. She must not have been used to having a follower, especially one eight times her size. Saïx kept glancing down at the compass in his hands. She had made a beeline for her abode which would make his own trip home much easier. He could barely hear her ramblings ahead but he was pretty sure they weren’t that important anyway. More focused on not getting slapped in the face by a tree, he wondered if he was being led into some sort of trap, and the weight of last minute dread lodged itself in his stomach. He wouldn’t put it past a demon to manipulate a lesser magical being into luring him somewhere. But at this point it was a little late to turn back and reassess. She had stopped up ahead.

“We’re here! This is it!” Serali was gesturing at a nondescript rock about a foot and a half in diameter. The area they had stopped was nowhere in particular, not a clearing, or cliff, or lake, which reassured the warlock to some degree. He saw no ritual circle or prepared surroundings. Just a rock in a copse of trees in the middle of the woods. After a cursory glance around he approached the fae, who was staring at him expectantly. 

The warlock swung his backpack down to his feet and rummaged around for his spell component bag. He pulled out a smudge stick he had tied together before they left the shop made of white willow bark, thyme, and white sage. White willow bark was a staple of his. As a lunar mage, much of his power was tied to the moon and its phases, and white willow bark helped channel lunar magic. Thyme was an herb that resonated with fae and other lesser magical beings, so he included it in hopes that it would connect with the fae’s home. White sage had more intent than the other two; it was to drive the spirit out and offer her home protection. While she probably didn’t need much protection once she had hibernated for the warmer months, it was still the most appropriate herb he had on hand for the task. He had no rue as of yet, and limited rosemary, until he planted the greenhouse {and he didn’t use rosemary from the grocery store, it usually wasn’t fresh enough to be potent}. Hawthorn berry would have been a better replacement for the thyme, but it was too early in the season for them to be effective. There were a multitude of herbs he could use, but he was confident what he had would be enough. It was only a small shadow he had to overpower, not a demon. 

Salt was the next ingredient he pulled from his bag. As always, he briefly wondered just how much of the crap he went through in a month, soaking up negative energy and throwing it away. He didn’t want to know. Lastly, he took out a palm sized composition book where he wrote his spells. The fae watch him closely as he lit the smudge stick the same way he had lit his joint earlier. It sputtered a bit in the damp forest air but he got it going after a second try. Smoke wafted as he swung the burning parcel around a bit before he propped it up against the rock in question. Which, was definitely not a boulder, but she could believe that if she wanted. He poured a mound of salt into his hand and thickly blanketed the natural shadow of the rock. Motioning for the fae to join him, he sat cross legged just outside the splattering of salt.

Saïx knew instinctively that the moon was in its last bit of the waning phase. It was an Aries moon, a cardinal sign, which didn’t align with what they were doing per say, but wasn’t going to work against them either. There was a trade off with the phases of the moon and his powers. The waning crescent represented letting go. It preceded the new moon, which was a symbol of new beginnings. Trying to exorcize a shadow from this fae’s home so she can hibernate would definitely fall under that spectrum. Or, the fact that his powers were weaker under the waning moon could steal all the power behind his spell. He never really knew just how things would swing. It seemed to appear that whether or not his spells succeeded depended on how lucky he was that day. 

Serali folded herself on the ground next to him, but a few inches away so she wasn’t in accidental-swatting distance. There was a haze of smoke around them, thicker than what burning herbs should really produce. Saïx flipped through his small spell book and stopped on a short exocising spell that was obviously well thumbed, but not as worn as some of the other pages. There were slips trying to fall out as he flattened it on his knee. The warlock reached forward and grabbed the smudge stick again. 

“What are you waiting for? Dramatic effect?” The fae hissed after he sat there for a moment, waving the smudge stick around. 

“No. I’m waiting for the smoke to agitate whatever’s inside. That will make it easier to force it out.” Saïx said with a laugh, and her pout turned sad. 

“I asked them to leave nicely.” She said down at herself, and the warlock shook his head. He admired that small fae, always so pushed around by the larger forces around them, stayed so positive and good. They were like dogs, he thought. 

Saïx held the smudge stick in his dominant right hand and began to flick it at the rock. The notebook was held open with his left hand and he quickly scanned the spell. Focusing his energy before him, he recited a few translated lines, punctuating them with the waving smudge stick. 

Nothing flashy happened. The rock’s natural shadow darkened until a thick sludge started to pour out of its edges. Two small arms struggled to pull themselves into form, the salt underneath soaking up its lifesource, the smoke above repelling it toward the ground. It was desperately trying to escape, but without proper form, it couldn't leave the shadow of the rock. It just wasn’t powerful enough to form without the aid of the natural shadow. Saïx’s yellow gaze was drawn to a small whine beside him. Sera had hidden her face behind her eyes. 

It was over in a minute. The salt soaked up the the last of the sludge and was left bloated and blackened. The warlock pulled a small trowel from his bag; it was one of the things in his ‘Forest Adventure Pack’ {which lived in the truck} that was used most, and scooped the unrecognizable salt into a cloth bag. While it looked and felt wet, the substance it held wouldn’t be able to seep into the cloth. Again, the shadow just wasn’t strong enough. He took the time to make sure he gathered the entire mess. Once satisfied, he put the satchel away in his bag and zipped it shut. Saïx would release the living shadow back to its own realm when he had the time. Slipping his small spell book into his pocket, he grabbed the smudge stick from where he had laid it against the rock. Looking from one to the other, he crushed the lit end against the rock to put it out. Sera, who had been standing off to the side to give him room, seemed offended. The ash rubbed out after he brushed it with his jacket sleeve. “For more protection.” He didn’t know if that was true, and the look she leveled at him said she didn't believe it. 

Serali approached her boulder. She tapped it a few times. Smiling brightly, she wrapped her arms around the warlock’s calf. “Thank you!” She zipped to the top of the rock. “Hold on!” In a second, she had fallen downward into the surface of the rock. In a few heartbeats she popped back up, too quick for his eyes to really follow, holding, what was for her, a giant cloth satchel dyed a deep blue. He put out his hand and she dropped it into his palm. “It’s frost dust!”

“Thank you,” he replied politely, slinging his backpack around and tucking it inside. The fae rocked in place looking like she wanted to say something. Instead, she lifted off of the rock and leveled herself with the warlock’s chest. Thins arms barely made the spread of his ribs, and the two tiny points of pressure from her squeezing hands almost hurt. A rare, genuine smile crossed his lips. Patting her back with one hand gently, he volunteered, “Why don’t you check in with me once you wake up next winter? To make sure that you slept well.” 

Furious nodding against his chest was obvious before Sera pulled away. Retreating to the top of the rock, she waved before disappearing once more. A small wet spot was left on his shirt and he noticed it as he glanced at his watch. 

The warlock felt a sigh of relief pass his lips, glad he was able to help before her situation turned dire, but he was also glad he wasn’t going to miss dinner if he hurried. The car was to the north. A small, half-rusted, well loved compass lead him back. The forest was darkening around him, and while he was too accustomed to these woods to be frightened, he wasn’t stupid enough not to be wary. He knew just because Serali had left didn’t mean he was alone. A quick jog got him back to the clearing with his truck. He tossed his pack into the back seat as he hauled himself into the cab. Speeding off, the forest flashed past his windows, blurring anything watching him go. 

 

“Really? Did you get anything done?” Isa was still scolding Saïx after he had come inside, upstairs, dropped off his shit, and came into the kitchen for dinner. It wasn’t like he could tell Isa just where he had been, so he made up the excuse that he had gone back to school for a book he’d forgotten and got sidetracked by a classmate.

“Yeah, I got the counter and the shelves near it done. And some small shit. I’ll get it done bit by bit.” He tried not to sound defensive. Isa wasn’t wrong, after all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you with the shop. I got sidetracked.” Isa wasn’t the fondest of running the shop and the warlock couldn’t blame him. There were customers that insisted he could do things that he couldn’t. It wasn’t his, or the customer’s fault. It could get awkward, or downright uncomfortable at times. Plus, that exposed Isa to the world of the supernatural, which Saïx tried his hardest to avoid, and soured his own reputation in the actual magic community. The shop was Saïx’s responsibility.

Isa sighed, and looked away. “I don’t mind it from time to time. It pays my bills too. You just know I hate last minute shit. I had… plans.” 

“Yeah! We were gonna go out for dinner,” A voiced whined from the couch. Lea was around, no surprise. He was beginning to be a permanent fixture in the house ever since the two started dating. The warlock ignored him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your plans.” He apologized sincerely. Isa waved him away. It happened pretty often. He tried to keep his twin’s plans in mind but sometimes the warlock just had to take care of things outside the shop. Isa was never too upset, knowing that the shop put food on his plate made it hard to be mad about having to work.

“It’s whatever.” The twins sat in the kitchen together, talking casually, and then Isa retreated to the couch with Lea once Saïx finished. Saïx washed his plate and waved goodnight as he went through his bedroom door. 

Saïx’s room looked like it belonged to a warlock. Littered about were a lot of books and trinkets. Stationary, empty glass bottles and phials, and various colored and sized crystals were strewn across his large wooden desk and dresser. Pushed up against the back wall was a four poster bed, the sheets a disheveled mess from his rush to get out the door late this morning. The furniture was obviously an old set, but like most things in the manor, were much older than they looked. Except his cartoon moon sheets. They were from when he was a kid. 

Blue hair flounced as he pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants. Fingers reached for the night sky as he stretched. Saïx grabbed a towel, new boxers, and a pair of pj bottoms to shower. He thought about covering himself more, but truthfully, if Lea had seen Isa naked, he didn’t need much imagination to see Saïx. It helped that he didn’t pass in front of them on his way to the bathroom. Simple vintage porcelain renovated into a minimalist style were the staples in the this room and the kitchen. Saix showered quickly, knowing it was best to wash away any dirt or dark residue from the forest off of his body before going to sleep, but still just wanting to crawl into bed. He toweled dry and wrapped up his hair, and left the bathroom clean. 

In his room, the warlock let down his hair and hung his wet towels. He opened his curtains wide to the light of the moon and soaked it in, breathing the night air in deep. Windows open, he crawled between his sheets. 

The night was still, and quiet. On his bookshelf, a small new bag of spell components sat with his growing collection. In the room next door, his brother slept, safe and ignorant. Saïx had never been particularly thankful for his ‘gift,’ but he would always be grateful for his and his brother’s lives. Experience taught him that they were pretty fragile. He looked out the window and up to the moon. Staring at it, he felt his connection to it, and the mark on his forearm began to glow faintly. Yellow eyes slid closed, and his breathing slowed. Tomorrow would come, and the week next, and then the blazing summer. And even though Saïx was unsure of a lot of things in life, he knew that for a fact. Time moved forward.


End file.
